


I Can Feel Infinity

by plinys



Category: Hawkeye (Comics)
Genre: F/F, Sexuality Crisis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-21
Updated: 2014-12-21
Packaged: 2018-03-02 14:12:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2814896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plinys/pseuds/plinys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“This is the part where you give me some sort of world saving advice, while somehow solving my sexuality crisis at the same time.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Can Feel Infinity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stitchingatthecircuitboard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stitchingatthecircuitboard/gifts).



She blames the message left in her voicemail box, the super casual one that’s “ _just checking in_ ” that she had happened to listen to in the grocery store and nearly dropped her phone as a result of that voice greeting her with the world “ _hey princess._ ”

Of course the message had come from a blocked number, so there was no way for Kate to call her back which had made the whole situation far more difficult that it needed to be, because instead of Kate being able to just leave a message in return assuring the other girl that she was fine and letting everything dropped – she was trapped her with a voicemail that she kept replaying over and over again with no way to deal with it.

That was probably what had led to her current position, staring at the ceiling as she tried to convince herself, of a great number of things.

The first of which was a truth that she had always acknowledged, “I’m straight.”

She’s said those words many times before, and they had felt so much more certain all those other times, which was probably why this time Kate added a, “I think,” at the end of it, before groaning.

“Okay, I might not be, and it’s one hundred percent America’s fault,” she pauses, before correcting “not the country, the person – okay, maybe the country as well. I’m not one hundred percent certain of that yet, so don’t quote me on anything.”

Her companion remains ever silent, his stare not one of judgment however so she continues.

“I’m probably bisexual, you know?”

She’s not sure if he knew or not, since all he does is blink at her in reply.

“Which I mean, it isn’t that big of a deal,” Kate continues, “America’s got this sort of tomboyish vibe about her, and she’s kind of _alien,”_ more than kind of, “which is something I have proven to be a fan of, right?”

Kate answers her own question a second later, tries to nod only to grimace when her head collides with something hard, “right.”

This isn’t actually helping nearly as much as she thought it would.

“I just- she leaves me these weirdly cryptic messages all the time, not the usual ones the rest of the team would leave like ‘hey girl how you been’ or ‘bring back some cute Hollywood celebrities for me.’ Those sorts of messages would be fine, I know how to reply to those,” Kate pulls a face remembering the one a certain ex of hers had left, at least she was pretty sure he had been joking, but he’d been talking a mile a minute and yeah okay - maybe it was a good thing that not too many people called Kate while she was out her on her whole road trip of self-discovery.

She just wished the whole _self-discovery_ part of this roadtrip had been as easy as the solving crime and kicking ass part was turning out to be.

Kate excelled at that sort of thing. The badass superhero stuff, she could do that in her sleep, no problem.

It was the weird real life stuff that left her lying on the ground, stumped, and kind of hating the whole universe for it having allowed this to happen.

“This is the part where you give me some sort of world saving advice,” Kate points out, “while somehow solving my sexuality crisis at the same time.”

And this time her companion finally _says_ something- or well to be clear, he woofs at her, but Kate is pretty sure that that’s dog speak for either “ _you’re super gay”_ or “ _seriously? I am a dog, I don’t understand your strange people problems._ ”

It was probably the second one.

More than probably.

“Oh my god,” Kate groans, “why am I asking you this?”

He unhelpfully woofs again.

It’s then that she sort of realizes how silly her situation is, laying on the floor of a borrowed motor home, hundreds of miles away from anybody that could have actually helped her, with a dog laying on top of her (soon to smash her to death if she didn’t get him off) and a demon cat probably tearing up something important (if the shredding sounds in the background were anything to go by).

Yes, of all places, _this_ would be the one where she had her sexuality crisis.

She groans, rolling over and pushing Lucky up off of her as she moved to do so, the dog only mildly protesting at the fact that his sort of owner was pushing him about.

He just kind of wiggles his ears in her direction, and maybe once she gets some money again she’ll look into dog whisperer classes or something, because she can just tell that there’s some serious untapped potential inside that doggy brain of his.

Until then she needed to find a way to get advice from people that could actually talk to her.

Which was why she set about searching the room for the one thing that would enable that, the cell phone with a slightly cracked screen (thanks to somebody hitting her with a car) and an obnoxiously bright purple case that should have made it stick out in the motor home, but instead seemed to make it blend in with her couch because it was nearly impossible to find.

If it was missing she was going to bet that the cat ate it.

It wasn’t missing. It took her ten minutes to find it, and one elaborate shimmy under the weird fake couch thing, but in the end she succeeded in finding her phone.

Which was why ten minutes later she found herself laying on the floor again in her original position, but this time with a phone pressed to her ear, not to list to America’s voicemail for the hundredth time, though the prospect of that is very tempting, but instead to call the only number she has ever bothered to save into her voicemail.

Her relief at the person on the other ending picked up by the second ring is really something, not that it shows when she answers the phone with, “Hey Hawkguy, guess whose probably gay? And no, it’s not you this time.”


End file.
